


Decision

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, Romance, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-28
Updated: 2005-02-28
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian makes a decision about Justin's cheating ways in season 2, in a Kinnish fashion.





	Decision

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

“You’re a decision that I never make.” Brian mouthed the words as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. The song was stuck in his head. Fucking lift was broken again, but that’s fine. He could take the stairs without even getting winded; he was still young after all. He tossed the Ben Harper CD in his hand, looking at the figure on the front with a mixture of confusion and indifference. Justin might bloody well love this music, but Brian really couldn’t care. If you couldn’t dance to it, why bother? But, he remembered being as obsessed with bands when he was Justin’s age. He’d even blown a couple of musician’s in his time. 

 

He’d bought the CD for Justin, knowing that he wanted it but couldn’t afford it. 

 

The apartment was quiet. Brian frowned, checking his watch. Justin was out. Again. Brian shook his head silently to himself. Fucking kid. He dropped the CD on the counter, and leaned on it heavily, thinking for a moment.

 

He fucking knew, he wasn’t stupid.

 

He hadn’t needed Michael’s not so subtle hinting. There wasn’t going to be some moment of dramatic realisation.

 

Justin would always be at the library, or late studying, or out with Daphne or a million other fucking excuses that Brian goddamn knew were just that. Fucking excuses. God, Justin must take him for an idiot. Brian turned the CD on the counter so that it faced him. He picked it up and tossed in one of the drawers in the kitchen. 

 

Fuck that.

 

He heard a sigh coming from the lounge, and a flood of relief overwhelmed him. 

 

Justin was asleep.

 

Brian just hadn’t seen him. Brian kicked off his shoes, and with as little noise as possible, made his way to Justin. The blonde boy was lying on the floor, surrounded by drawings. He had the grey blanket thrown across him, and was curled up with a pillow under his head. Brian crouched down, resting on his haunches, and picked up one of the drawings.

 

It was a half done sketch, the back of someone’s head. He dropped it, picked up another. Justin’s mother, a picture of people at the park, no more then a few lines. Each one was broken somehow. He looked at the one of a cityscape, the view from the loft, and there he saw it. Where the pencil would break out of Justin’s control, dig into the paper, ruin the picture and Justin would leave it in disgust. Brian dropped this one too. He glanced around, and then at Justin. 

 

Justin must have been drawing that way for hours, these scratches on paper that meant so much to him, that he couldn’t bring himself to finish. Brian could imagine Justin flexing his hand, the grim determination with which he drew these days. 

 

Justin’s eyes flickered open, and he saw Brian hovering. He sat up, rubbing his hair.

 

“Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up.” He said sleepily. Brian waved it away. 

 

“What about the computer?” Brian said quietly. Justin rolled his eyes.

 

“Fuck the computer.” His lips were already curled in a pout. “You think it fixes anything?” Brian glanced at his hands. His perfect, unbroken hands.

 

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Brian said quietly. He sat on the floor, surrounded by the drawings, on Justin’s level. Justin shifted, slightly confused. He licked his lips, looking at Brian warily, detecting a trap.

 

“What do you care?” Justin said suddenly. “When have you ever cared, about me, about my hand, about how I feel?” He watched Brian’s reactions, and wished he wasn’t doing this. Being so fucking hostile. Pushing Brian’s buttons. After what had happened yesterday, when he’d come home… 

 

Brian kissing him, that determined, emotionless look. Justin trying to escape, the only thought on his mind that he would smell him, that he stank of Ethan. And then, finally caught up in the heat of the moment, and Brian pulled away… That look of disgust.

 

“I fucking took you in didn’t I?” Brian said quietly, trying to keep his anger in check. If Justin wanted to blame him, then fine. The kid had always needed some authority figure to rebel against. But Brian would be damned if he was going to play the spurned lover. 

 

“So you could fix me?” Justin spat. He got up, pushing himself on the floor angrily. Brian stayed where he was sitting, gazing at the floor in amazement. Justin bent over so that his words would have full affect. “You can’t fucking fix me Brian Kinney, not with your money, not with your damn computers, your fucking guilt isn’t going to fix me.” He stood shaking, quite breathless now. 

 

Brian got slowly to his feet, the papers crunching beneath his expensive prada shoes. He took a step towards Justin, and placed a hand on Justin’s hip. Justin jilted at the touch as though stung. Brian tilted his head slightly, looking at the trembling boy. His nostrils flared slightly, and Justin gave him a dull look. Brian glanced away.

 

“Justin,” He said taking in a breath. “If you don’t want to be here…”

 

“What?” Justin said, taking a step away, backing into the back of the couch. “You’re kicking me out? Again?” Brian smiled, and shook his head.

 

“No, I’m telling you your options.” His manner was business like now. He pressed his finger pads against one another, and smiled dangerously at Justin. “No one’s keeping you here.”

 

“You’d actually let me walk out wouldn’t you? You fucking…”

 

“Do you still want to be here?” Brian said calmly. Justin’s mouth fell open. He didn’t respond, and Brian’s face darkened. Suddenly moved forward, grabbing Justin, his arms around his waist, his body pressed against Justin’s so that Justin was gazing up at him fearfully. Brian almost violently pushed one hand across Justin’s cheek as though trying to smooth the issues brimming beneath the surface with the authority of that hand. 

 

The kiss was violent, a movement almost like that of a snake biting, his lips pushing against Justin’s, a crazy mash of flesh. Justin found himself clinging to Brian’s back, one hand on each shoulder blade, leaning over the back of the couch. He opened his eyes for a moment, and saw Brian’s wide open. 

 

Brian pulled away, leaving Justin almost breathless.

 

“Fuck.” Brian muttered. He turned, and Justin winced. 

 

“Wait Brian.” But Brian waved it away. He sat down in front of the television, one hand massaging his neck, the other reaching for the remote. He was acting completely as though Justin was no longer there. Justin stood for a moment, unsure of what to do. He started picking up his papers, one by one, his lips sore and his heart still beating so loud that he felt deaf.

 

After half an hour, after Brian had sufficiently cooled down, Justin couldn’t stand it any longer. He put down his pencil. He crossed the loft, standing in front of Brian, blocking the view of the television, until Brian growled with annoyance, and would look at him. 

 

“What?” He snapped; an insult already ready.

 

“Yes. I still want to be here.” Justin said with such seriousness he felt like he was taking his final exams all over again. Brian gave him a blank look.

 

“Why the fuck do you think I would care?” Brian said quietly. Justin knelt before Brian, never moving his eyes from Brian’s and very very slowly leant forward and kissed him. Brian did not move, rather stayed frozen beneath the kiss. Justin leant back, gulping slightly in preparation for whatever the next moment would bring. 

 

Brian sighed, and put one hand on the back on Justin’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. He slid off the couch, still kissing Justin, and for a moment they were both kneeling, like some ridiculous prayer. Brian unbuttoned his own shirt, and then Justin pulled Brian’s white singlet over his head. The movement was almost reverent, but Brian did not return the favour. He pushed hard against Justin now, pushing him back on the floor, only yanking up Justin’s shirt far enough so that he could kiss the nipple ring, his hands undoing the boys jeans. Justin raked a hand through Brian’s hair, and then Brian moved up as though to kiss Justin on the mouth. But at the last minute, their eyes meeting momentarily, Brian chose to kiss the boys neck instead, the Adams apple, the vulnerable skin, going for the jugular. 

 

Justin sighed against those lips, and let Brian devour him.

 

Justin slept afterwards, but Brian remained awake, watching him. Justin slept so peacefully, so unwarily. He was tired these days, with all this crap to do with his art and his hand, and the nightmares that still plagued him. Brian would often find Justin out of bed late at night, sitting on the couch or sketching by the window. 

 

Those library excursions must also be taking it out of him. 

 

Brian sighed, his eyes dropping away from Justin.

 

He knew what the others thought. Michael and Debbie and Justin’s goddamn mother. The smoking, the drinking, the drug taking, the fucking, the abuse, the violence, everything. Fuck, Debbie hadn’t wanted Michael to be with him all those years ago, even when they were just kids, because she could tell. She could tell what sort of a man Brian was, even as a boy. The potential for violence in him that his father had beaten into him day in and day out. 

 

The darkness.

 

He pursed his lips, and lit a cigarette.

 

And now Justin too, broken. Those nightmares, being kicked out of home, not being able to draw or be a normal teenager. 

 

They were both so flawed.

 

And they all blamed him it.

 

Justin rolled over, looking at Brian.

 

“What?” He whispered suddenly. He reached up a hand to touch Brian’s face, thumbing his cheekbone. Brian looked so tired, almost desperate in that moment. “What’s wrong?” 

 

Brian shook his head, and taking the cigarette away, kissed Justin, just once on the lips. He looked into the boys face. 

 

They were both so flawed. 

 

How had he let himself become entangled like this, in this flawed relationship. Drawn in on some absurd notion of sentimentality that still existed within him. He didn’t remember being scared, not anymore, but maybe this was what it was like. Maybe this was fear.

 

He promised himself would never fear again. 

 

Justin took the cigarette from him, and took a drag, blowing the smoke up into the air.

 

“You looked… sorta strange for a moment there. You’d think you were the one with bad dreams.” Justin said jokingly, passing him back the cigarette. Brian nodded, at some inner dialogue in his head. I should tell him, he thought suddenly. I should tell him why I looked so fucking afraid, so then he’d know. He’d know for sure.

 

I’m afraid because I just realised that I’m in a relationship. Just realised it now, just as it’s ending.

 

“Justin…” He said, the word rasping his palette. So many things needed to be said. That Justin was free, that was the obvious one, that he could do whatever he wanted and Brian wouldn’t stop him, Brian wouldn’t ask him to stay. That there were so many things he couldn’t give him, but… he couldn’t even end his own thoughts. How could the words ever appear then?

 

“Mhm?” Justin murmured, almost far away.

 

Brian shook his head, casting away those thoughts. They weren’t for him. Just as maybe Justin wasn’t. He kissed the boy again, and then lay back, taking another drag. He glanced at Justin and smiled to himself.

 

For Justin, this was just another night. A dangerous conversation that he didn’t quite understand, a resolution to a fight that almost hadn’t been, and life as normal. There wouldn’t be any dramatic accusations from Brian. He would know, and perhaps Justin would know he knew. 

 

Perhaps he would take it as indifference.

 

Brian would sit back, smoke his cigarettes, and watch Justin, watch this scene play out, and eventually watch Justin leave.

 

That was the decision he made that night. 

 

He’d finally figured it out with Justin. He couldn’t control him, he couldn’t contain him. He should have realised that from the start. The kid would do what he liked because he’d never been taught otherwise. The more you raged against him, the more determined he became. For over a year now, Brian had been trying to figure it out, pushing him away, pulling him in, giving in, giving up, fighting, consenting, trying to figure out what to do with this boy who had landed in his life. But he’d never made a decision. He just left it there, like a scab that you keep toying with and don’t let it heal.

 

Now he’d made a decision. 

 

He’d let Justin go.


End file.
